


Your Voice in My Ear

by Renai_chan



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dialogue-Only, Drunk Dialing, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 09:15:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6950215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Tony and Steve get together through a series of phone calls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Voice in My Ear

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a gift for a fandom friend for her wedding _last year_ , but we fell out of touch before I could finish it (my fault) and I'm not sure if she's still in the fandom. I was rereading it, enjoyed it, and found a little bit of inspiration to finish (I saw Civil War just last Sunday!). Not sure if I'm going to write any more Stony fics, but nothing's ever set in stone.
> 
> Emily, if you see this, know that it's still dedicated to you. Hope you and your husband are having a great life together! :)

"I can't take this anymore, Rhodey!"

"..."

"This sucks. This fucking sucks, and I can't take this anymore because when they look at me, they see either daddy's little boy or their newest little ATM. They see either those or they see themselves in my bed, which is so much worse, and I can't stay here a second longer otherwise I'm going to smack Langston right in his smarmy face. Obi is going to so chew me out but it's going to be so fucking worth it. He's a fucking creep, and why aren't you here, Rhodey?"

"I--"

"Pepper did tell you about this right? I'm sure she did, I told her to send you an invitation and clear you with your higher ups. I know she's new, but she seems capable enough to do that at least. I needed you here tonight, Rhodey. I need someone I trust. Obi doesn't count."

"Wha--"

"You better make this up to me Rhodes. Donuts. Lots of them. The entire store if you can, you asshole. I know you just got that promotion, but I kind of think my promotion trumps yours."

"You--"

"God, Obi's here. Five minutes. Not even five minutes he gives me a break. I'll talk to you later; you better not fall asleep on me, you asshole. You've got a lot of making up to do-- _alright, Obi! Gimme a sec! Five seconds!_ \--talk to you later, you asshole."

"Wait--!"

*click*

..........

"I think I owe you an apology. I seem to have misdialed last night and called you an asshole."

"No, it's fine."

"I mean, I was a little drunk, so I shouldn't really be held accountable for what I said, but Pepper insisted that it was only polite, and Rhodey refused to answer any of my calls until I apologized, which is all kinds of ridiculous because I think you understand that I wasn't calling _you_ an asshole."

"No, yeah, I get it. Thanks. If that's--"

"I've called more important people worse, and yet Rhodey doesn't refuse my calls when I call _them_ assholes. Apparently, strangers I've never met and never will is where he draws the line. Go figure."

"Yeah. Odd."

"Unless I bothered you at some stupid hour of the day, of course. I mean, I did call pretty late."

"Uhhh... Kinda? But I wasn't sl--"

"Oh, God, really? Shit. I mean. You shouldn't have picked up the phone, so it's your fault really--"

"--my--?"

"--it was a completely random error, so I didn't exactly check for time variance, and Rhodey's hardwired to answer at any time of the day. Or the night. So. I'm sorry again."

"... It's fine. Thank you for the apology. And the... rest. Goodbye."

*click*

..........

"Hi."

"Hi. I'm sorry, who's this?"

"It's me. The. Uh. The guy from the other day? I called to apologize for drunk dialling you?"

"Oh. How can I help you?"

"Well. This is going to sound really random and stalkery, but I was hoping to ask where you live?"

"..."

"I mean in a general and non-specific way, like what state are you from? I wanted to apologize properly, and I figured the gravity of my apology would depend on where you are."

"... I. Uh. New York."

"Shit. I called you at three am?"

"Well, I wasn't yet asleep when you called, so I didn't mind. And your apology was accepted. You don't need to apologize some more."

"I know, but. Well, I figured it would be nice to do something for a stranger, you know?"

"Yeah, I do. I know what you mean."

"Well, I don't want to ask for your name coz that's going to make me even more of a stalker--"

"Pretty much."

"Right, so. Just. Go to any Stark store and get anything you want--"

"Wha--"

"Like, literally anything--Oh! Ask for the newest Stark tab. It's fantastic. All new features, extended battery life, great camera. Apple doesn't have shit on it."

"A new--I can't just go to a Stark shop and get anything I want, _are you crazy_?!"

"No, really--"

"Those things cost a fortune! And those Stark tabs don't even come out till next week!"

"I have connections. And don't worry about how expensive they are, just get one. It'll be fine, I promise."

"... You're serious?"

"Well, yeah."

"But... I just..."

"Look, don't worry about it. Really. It's not a problem. It won't make a dent in the budget. Just go to any Stark shop in New York--try the one on Times Square; it'll be an experience--and get one."

"...Okay, but how will they know to give me one? Should I give them your name?"

"Oh, well. Maybe I can give you like a keyword or something... How's 'bananarama'? Just say it to any manager, and they'll know to help you out. I'll make sure of it."

"'Bananarama'? Really? If this whole thing is a joke, I'm gonna look like the biggest idiot in New York."

"You would, but I promise it's all real."

"Well, okay. Thank you then. I'll try to swing by this week."

"Please do. Sorry again."

"Your apology's been accepted since the first time you said it."

"Yes, well, I've been told I overcompensate."

"Huh. Okay. Goodbye then, and thank you again."

"Goodbye. Hope you enjoy the tab."

"I'm sure I will."

*click*

..........

"Hi."

"Hi. Wrong number guy, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry if I'm bothering you--"

"You're not. It's fine. Did you find the tab okay?"

"Actually, that's why I'm calling. I wanted to say thank you. This is really excellent, probably the best thing that's happened to me this year. I wouldn't have been able to afford one on my own. So yeah... Thank you again."

"Oh hey, that's great! Glad to be of service. You should download some of the Stark apps. I know for a fact that they're very relevant and user-friendly. I use the Happy Face game myself. Let me tell you, that stupid little game has saved me in many a boring meeting."

"I have, actually. I've been using Stark Illustrator nearly everyday--which thank you also for the gift card. The tab was already enough as is. That was just awesome of you."

"It was nothing, I promise. So Illustrator? You're an artist then?"

"I'm trying to be, but I'm both a struggling and a starving one, so it's waiting tables for now and drawing in the dead of the night."

"Or at three am when random jerks call you up to call you an asshole?"

"*laughs* Or then, too."

"So is digital your preferred medium?"

"Not really, no. I mean, it's exceptionally convenient, and I can do things on it I can't even begin to dream of on traditional media, but when it comes down to it, nothing can really compare to actual paints."

"Oil?"

"When I can afford it. Otherwise, I stick to acrylics. And charcoal when it hasn't been a good week."

"Very traditional. Can I hazard you're a realist?"

"Impressionist, actually. I love art for the mood it evokes, not for its ability to mimic life for which it pales in comparison anyway."

"An optimist, too, I see."

"I just think no canvas is going to display beauty at the same level real life does, so why bother? Besides what would be the point when you can go out and see for yourself? Plus, we do have photography, now, which is an art form in itself and kind of makes realism moot beyond us marveling how close it gets in its mimicry.

"Impressionism, on the other hand, evokes feelings beyond the usual 'oh, it looks _exactly_ like a tree,' you know?"

"Well, I never really thought of it that way. To be honest, I'm not a huge art connoisseur myself, so my appreciation of art _does_ include 'oh, it looks _exactly_ like a tree.'"

"I mean, I'm not saying realists aren't good artists! To become even a halfway decent realist requires incredible skill."

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you secretly hate realists."

"Oh, haha. Don't twist my words around."

"Kidding! I'm kidding, I promise. So hey. I was wondering, if you aren't, you know, worried about random asshole strangers finding out your real identity and screwing you over completely, maybe you could show me some of your work...?"

"I... Yeah, I guess that's--"

"You don't have to if you don't want. I just. I was thinking I know some people down there that may be interested in it. I swear I'm not some sort of criminal who's going to screw you over, which now I realize is something a criminal _would_ say, but yeah. If you're interested. Of course, I'm not making any promises about getting you featured because for all I know you could be shit--"

"Gee, thanks."

"Just being realistic, sweetheart. I know how much you hate that, but we can't all be impressionists."

"Is this going to become a running joke?"

"I don't know. I'm partial to the idea, but I mean, realistically speaking, I don't know how long our conversations are going to go. You're a starving artist in New York, I'm some asshole stalker in LA. It's. Well, not ideal."

"Ah, well, in that case, deal breaker unfortunately. I don't entertain stalkers. Not even those that buy me Stark tabs."

"Aww, shucks. I was hoping to ply you with more gadgets. Would a car change your mind?"

"A--a _car_?! Are you _insane_?!"

"Rhodey tells me I am, and he knows me like the back of his hand, so yeah. Probably."

"No. No cars. If you give me a car, you will be officially insane in my book, and I cannot possibly talk to you anymore."

"Okay, okay. No cars. But how about the art? Maybe you can email me some stuff?"

"Well, uh, sure I could. I mean, I'm not quite sure about. Well, how good it is. But yeah, where do you want me to..."

"Iron.man@gmail.com. No capitals. Don't ask. I blame Rhodey for that address."

"Wasn't going to, but now I suppose I have to."

"You reaaally, don't want to know that one right now. Maybe when you get to know me a bit more--if! If. Stop laughing. I swear. You'll think stalking is a step up from it."

"Okay, I won't ask. Now. But if I send you my pieces, then will you tell me?"

"Maybe. If they're really bad pieces, I'll think about it."

"I have never wanted my art to be so bad in my life."

"You'll regret that when I tell you my story. So--Oh, uh, Pepper's here to collect me for a meeting. I was hoping to hide for the rest of the day, but she's proving to be surprisingly capable. I'm not sure if like it."

"I'm sure you will. Don't replace her; she'll be important to your quest later on."

"Quest, huh? You make my life sound much more interesting than it really is-- _yes, I am coming!_ \--I'll catch you soon?"

"Yeah, okay. Bye."

*click*

.............

_To: iron.man@gmail.com_  
_From: captainamerica@gmail.com_  
_Subject: Art Samples_

_Hi._

_Here are the samples you asked for._

_Let me know if I get the story._

_Warm Regards._

.............

"You're not getting the story. They aren't bad enough."

"I have no idea if that was a compliment or an insult."

"All compliments, darling, I assure you."

"It didn't sound like one. Think I deserve a story after such an awful compliment."

"Haha. No."

"What's so--"

"BUT! I will concede to tell it to you if you tell me about your email, because 'Captain America'?"

"It was Bucky--my best friend's idea. A joke really, which is why that's a throwaway email, like what I use to sign up for stuff."

"And why 'Captain America'?"

"... Well, I’m in the army, a Captain. And the boys always tease me about how I stand for freedom and democracy, and everything that America stands for, so it kind of... stuck."

"Oh... That's. Well, that's definitely a much better story than mine. So. I'm not telling you mine now."

"Now you're just being an asshole. Come on, I told you mine, now you have to tell me yours!"

"I dunno. How can I--no wait, screw that. How can _anyone_ compare to a soldier called Captain America?"

"I'm just a guy from Brooklyn who so happens to blow up people in Iraq on occassion. So much more people have done far greater things than I."

"Well, probably, yeah."

"Come on! Don't leave me hanging here."

"Well..."

"Will a 'please' help?"

"Okay, okay, fine. I'm an inventor and an engineer; I like building stuff, have always liked it.

“So one day, I just, you know, I thought--and I was drunk at this time so you aren't allowed to laugh--I wondered if I could make a modern suit of armor. You know, like ye knights of old used to wear? So I was halfway through building it when Rhodey came in and saw me in the mask and chest plate, and just... laughed at me. I later threw up on his shoes... in revenge or something. He's called me Iron Man ever since even though the alloy was nowhere _near_ iron."

"See? That wasn't so bad. That wasn't bad at all! You were completely overreacting."

"Yeah, well I guess you had to be there. So... So army, huh?"

"Rangers, actually. My men and I shifted over a few years back."

"Oh so you _are_ as hot as you sound."

"I--what? I'm not--I--"

"Relax, sweetheart. Just trying to paint a picture here."

"That's kind of a stalkery thing to say."

"At this point, I am freely admitting to being your stalker. Man, you must have like guns of steel! I've seen guys like you. You're _insane_."

"Yeah, I guess--"

"Not bad in the sack either."

"...Oh, you’re--Uh... Nevermind."

"Gay? Not completely, but I'm definitely not a zero on the Kinsey scale either, darling. Is that going to be a problem between us?"

"Oh, no! Not that. I’m... I don't really. Care--Mind! I don't mind. What I meant to ask is that you've been with a Ranger before? But that's not really an appropriate question for someone whose first name I don't even know, so feel free to ignore that. You know what? I'll just take my foot out of my mouth now and shove it up my ass."

"You like getting things shoved up your ass, soldier?"

"....I--What? No. I mean, yes. Maybe? I--Fuck, that's--"

"Relax, big guy. I'm teasing."

"Yeah, no. I got that. I just--"

"Shush. Topic change because your brain is clearly overloading. Since you’re a Ranger, you know a Colonel Chester Phillips?"

"Oh, hey yeah! He was my DI back in training. Utter bastard--"

"He was my dad's friend."

"--But he taught us essential life skills that have come in handy even out of the field. _Man_ , was he a great guy."

"*laughs* God, you are _such_ a liar! And an awful one, apparently. But don't worry. It's fine, I promise. He _is_ a bastard. The good kind of bastard."

"Yeah, exactly. That."

"He's not the one I slept with though."

"Well, I would hope not! He's ancient!"

"What are you talking about? He's a fine wine!"

"Oh shut up, he's not. He's a battle hardened veteran. I think he fought in World War 2 back when he first enlisted."

“*laughs* Oh my god. He did not. You suck!"

"Sometimes."

"...Oh. Finally bucking up and flirting back, shy boy?"

"Your nicknames are ridiculous. Call me Steve. Please. I insist. Like really."

"Steve, huh? Well, I suppose it's only fair I tell you to call me Tony, then."

"Tony."

"So, Steve, are you still active duty?"

"I am. I just got off a tour two weeks ago, so I've got a bit of time before I ship out again."

"I see. And what do you do in the in-betweens. Aside from art I mean."

"Well, a little of this and a lot of nothing. I hang out with friends from time to time, but they've all got jobs so scheduling's difficult."

"No girl waiting for you then?"

"...Not as such. No."

"You in the market?"

"You offering?"

"... I could? I mean. We hardly know each other, but yeah. If you want."

"Aww, you're being shy! Something tells me that's not a usual habit."

"Shut up, I’m not. I’m being considerate of your aversion to stalkers.”

“I’m sensing denial.”

“I could explain to you in minute detail how I'd ride your cock, if that helps?"

"..."

"Steve?"

"I--No. You don't have to do that, no."

"..."

"Tony?"

"Well, for starters, I'd kiss you first because it's a hook up, but I'm not a hooker."

"Tony..."

"I'd press myself up against you and lick into your mouth, slide my tongue up against yours, taste you, while my hands would slide down your chest--"

"...Tony?"

"--I'd trace each cut of muscle, squeeze your pecs, and pinch your nipples. I'd put my mouth on them and lick and tease at them through your shirt, getting them wet and hard--"

"Okay, I get it. Not shy."

"--while my hands would be on your cock, squeezing you through your pants."

"Tony, come on..."

"Want me to stop, soldier?"

"I--I don't th--"

"You'd be so hard. How big are you, baby? Come on, give me measurements,"

"I... I don't know. I've never--"

"Oh bullshit, honey. You're a Ranger. Your dick size is probably on file somewhere. I can find it if you don't want to say it."

"*sigh* Ten long, seven around."

“...”

“...”

“... What…?”

“Is. Is that weird?”

“Oh. My. _God_! Ten--You know what? You are either a huge liar or my new favorite person.”

“*chuckles* I’m not lying.”

“How--how can you even run with that between your legs? Doesn’t it, like, get in the way? I mean--”

“*laughs* Seriously? You’re seriously asking if I can operate with a hard on? Why would I even _get_ a hard on in the field?”

“Pssh. I’m sure you’ve done that in training. But really. How are you even single? Shit. Screw teasing you; I’d get my mouth on that the minute I see you. You are fucking _hung_ , sweetheart, and I’d want you in me in a New York minute.”

“Christ, you are utterly ridiculous.”

“I’m not hearing a no here, Steve.”

“That’s because there wasn’t one.”

“Really, Steve? Are you sure you want to encourage me? Coz I can go for hours and hours and _hours_.”

“You can keep going all you want, I’ve been told I have the stamina of a racehorse.”

“And the cock to boot, apparently.”

“*laughs* You’re fixated.”

“If we ever meet, I’m going to fixate my mouth on your throbbing manhood until I either pass out from asphyxiation or drown in your jizz.”

“How romantic. And ‘throbbing manhood’? Really? What Fabio-covered romance novel have you been reading lately?”

“‘Defy Not Thy Heart.’ Don’t judge me.”

“...”

“You’re Googling it, aren’t you? Okay, I’ll wait...”

“...Oh jeez, it really does exist!”

“You’ll learn not to doubt me soon enough.”

“Oh, hey, gimme a sec. Email…”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead. I can fill in for the both of us. So I’m halfway through the book already, mostly because Pepper left it in my office and I decided that tacky romance novels _have_ to be better than paperwork, right? A hundred and twenty three pages later, I realize I’ve underestimated its appeal and I maaaaaaay have, you know, spanked the monkey a bit, sorry TMI, but it’s surprisingly good material. You should try it.”

“...”

“Steve?”

“I…”

“What is it?”

“I… This can’t be right…”

“What isn’t?”

“...”

“Steve?”

“*unintelligible muttering*”

“Steve? You’re starting to freak me out a little here.”

“It’s-- _Jesus_! Did you do this?”

“Well, I’m not sure how you expect Jesus to answer you.”

“No, not Jesus, I meant you. Tony, did you do this?”

“You’ll have to be a little more specific than that, Steve. I can’t exactly see what you’re seeing, can I? What exactly is it that I did?”

“ _Dear sir. Warm greetings to you. We at Eleven Rivington have been recently made aware of your work through one of our patrons and have come into possession images of such that we have initially reviewed. We are delighted to inform you that we would like to look further into your portfolio in our consideration for including you as one of our artists in our autumn exhibit. As such, we would like to request a formal meeting with you at your convenience here at our gallery. If you may, we would like to see some more examples of your work. Please do not hesitate to get in touch with me… blah, blah, blah. Bridgette Smith, Curator._ Was that you?”

“Well… I told you I knew some people.”

“The Eleven Rivington.”

“It’s not a big deal, Steve.”

“The _Eleven Rivington_!”

“I thought the Guggenheim might overwhelm you.”

“Shut up or I might believe you. The _Eleven Rivington_ , though.”

“You’ve said that.”

“It’s only one of _the_ most up-and-coming galleries in Manhattan. Any new artist would _kill_ to get featured there. _How_ did you manage to get them to look at my stuff? No, you know what? _Thank you_. That’s all I should be saying about this. Tony, _thank you_. Truly.”

“It’s nothing, Steve. You did all the work. I just turned the heads in your direction.”

“Still. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“... What should I tell her?”

“‘Fuck yeah’?”

“I am _not_ saying that.”

“Figured not. Just tell them when you’ll be there. It’s fine, Steve. They want you for your art, not for your e-mail-writing skills.”

“Yeah, okay. Gimme another sec.”

“Do your thing.”

“...”

“...”

“... Aaaaand sent.”

“Done?”

“I think it’s only just starting.”

“Will I get the honors of ‘discovering’ you then once you become all rich and famous?”

“Only if you come to my first art show if they do pick me.”

“Careful, Steve. I’m a stalker. I could kidnap you and keep you as my sex slave.”

“Ranger, remember? I’m not going to make it easy for you.”

“*laughs* You wouldn’t want to know me. Only three people in the world like me and half the time, I drive them out of their goddamned minds.”

“I think already do like you, Tony, and you do drive me out of my mind half the time.”

“You’ve known me for five calls, Steve. Five. You have technically known me for all of an hour. This is the longest conversation we’ve had. You do not _know_ me, and hence, you cannot possibly like me.”

“Then let me. Come see my art show, Tony. I owe you a proper thank you, and I _do_ want to get to know you.”

“...”

“Please.”

“You are… You are probably the one person in the world, aside from Pepper, Rhodey, and Obi, who sees me--technically speaking--for who I really am… I just… don’t want your opinion of me to change. It’s selfish, I know, but it’s all I really have.”

“It won’t, I swear. Look. I’m not sure they even will feature me, but if I do. If I do, please promise you’ll come, and if you do, I swear my opinion of you won’t change.”

“You can’t promise that, Steve. You can’t know it won’t.”

“It won’t. Not even if you’re Donald fucking Trump; though I reeeeally, really hope you’re not.”

“*laughs*”

“You have my word, Tony… Well, unless you’re, like, a rapist or a pedo or something. Then probably. You aren’t… are you?”

“*laughs* Thank you for the vote of confidence. No, I am neither a rapist nor a pedo. Nor am I, God forbid, Donald fucking Trump.”

“So you’ll come?”

“... I… Okay, I’ll come.”

“Great.”

…………… 

“Where are you?”

“I said I’ll come, so I will come… Hopefully in more ways than one, if you catch my drift?”

“Depends really on how good looking you are.”

“Screw you. I look fantastic. Men and women alike have professed their undying affection for me on the sole basis of my goatee alone. I’ve had _statues_ erected to celebrate my good-lookingness.”

“You have a goatee? Well, that settles it. You aren’t getting within three feet of me, you creep.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s not a fucking soul patch is it? No, it isn’t.”

“*laughs* But where are you? Are you even here or have you chickened out of our deal?”

“What’s with all the insults? First you accuse me of being ugly, now I’m chicken? I should leave your dumb ass here and go pick myself up a chick or two who’re gonna appreciate me allllll night long.”

“*laughs* You’re such an asshole. What are you wearing?”

“Just my briefs, baby. I’m all hard for you, rubbing my--”

“Tonyyyyy. Really now. Are you hiding from me?”

“No. No, I’m not. I have just arrived.”

“Wow. Not even the courtesy to show up on time.”

“Well, I never promised to be on time, did I?”

“*muffled whispering*”

“...What was that…?”

“... ”

“Steve?”

“... Tony?”

“Yes, Steve?”

“Tony.”

“That _is_ my name.”

“Tony Stark.”

“... I--Yes.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“... I recall a promise you made.”

“I…”

“I’m invoking it.”

“Hang on. Gimme a minute to process here…”

“You promised.”

“I did, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“... I’m still Tony, Steve.”

“You are. You are… You are. Okay. *blows out breath* Okay, let me come find you, I’m at the back and--”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“... Hi.”

“Hi, Steve.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“So… awkward sexual tension or just awkward tension?”

“Disbelief is more like it. Is that Pepper? Can you tell her ‘hi’ for me?”

“Steve says hi… Pepper’s laughing at us.”

“I can see that. Why are we still on the phone?”

“I’m… not quite sure to be honest.”

“...”

“...”

“We’re still not putting it down.”

“I think we’re sort of in denial… Wait. Yeah. Pepper says we are.”

“Yeah, I heard… People are watching us, Tony. They’re taking our pictures. We’re going to look like idiots in the papers. Oh God. I’m going to be in the papers, aren’t I?”

“Probably only page three if we’re lucky. Page one if I kiss you... Can I kiss you, Steve?”

“Why?”

“Well… Why not?”

“Maybe because you’re Tony Stark and you can have anyone in the world that you want, and here you are, standing in front of me, talking to a virtual stranger, a nobody, on the phone like we’ve been doing for the past two months, and you’re telling me that you want to kiss me?”

“At what point in our conversations did I not make it clear that I want to kiss you and then maybe ride you into the sunset afterwards?”

“There’s no sunset, Tony. It’s night.”

“Oh, well. All right then. Guess that negates all my subtle flirting.”

“You’re about as subtle as a brick against the teeth… See? Pepper says so. Thank you, Pepper.”

“So… Do you not want to? Do I not live up to your expectations? It’ll be a first, I admit. My pride may be wounded a little bit, but I’d nevertheless feel oddly proud of you for upholding your principles.”

“I… I like your goatee.”

“I told you it looked awesome.”

“And I like your suit.”

“I’d like yours on my bedroom floor better.”

“They’re still staring…”

“Ignore them. They’ll go away.”

“No they won’t.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“*whispers* We’re still on the phone.”

“Yeah…”

*click*

…………… 

“Two weeks more, Tony.”

“I haven’t seen you in _five months_. My balls are turning blue. I’m half a second away from phoning Ross and telling him to screw himself six ways from Sunday for sending you where you didn’t need to be on the sole basis of ‘just in case.’ Especially when everyone knows he’s only power-tripping.”

“It’s not nice to talk about a general of the army that way, Tony.”

“Ross can go suck my ass. He’s a douche anyway. I should get Fury promoted so that they can finally sack the old fart. I’d probably get the Congressional Medal of Honor.”

“General Ross is an exceptional leader. We should all respect his bravery and accomplishments.”

“His puppy’s standing right behind you isn’t he? Tell that sack of shit he’s not worth the paper his birth certificate is printed on.”

“Of course. I’ll get right on that, shall I?”

“Hey, before you do--”

“*snorts*”

“--Do me a favor and check with Coulson if you received the shipment I sent over?”

“Why? Was there a problem with the delivery?”

“No, no. I just want to make sure it’s all safe and sound. Can you just go check with him now? I need to cut off in a bit, and I want confirmation before I do.”

“Yeah, okay. Gimme a--”

“...”

“...”

“... You little shit.”

“Hi, Steve.”

“You do realize that we’re in the middle of a war zone?”

“Pssh. Hardly. Al-Qaeda up and packed years ago. Power tripping, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m off-duty.”

“It does if Tony Stark asks for it. Tony Stark always gets what he wants when he brings shiny new toys for the army boys to play with.”

“Does Tony Stark always refer to himself in third person?”

“Tony Stark does what Tony Stark wants.”

“*laughs* You’re ridiculous.”

“And that’s surprising because...?”

“You’re always surprising. So. What _does_ Tony Stark want?”

“*smiles* You.”


End file.
